


First Date

by daisyisawriter91



Series: Don Winchester [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Mob, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Dates, M/M, Mob Boss Henry Winchester, Mostly Fluff, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 22:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyisawriter91/pseuds/daisyisawriter91
Summary: Balthazar is a bit nervous. He's about to go on his first date with a mob boss. Life is strange sometimes.





	First Date

Balthazar was a bit nervous. No, that was incorrect. He was _incredibly_ nervous.  
A first date with a mafia boss…it wasn’t something Balthazar had ever anticipated from his life. But it was where life had taken him, and the mafia boss was hot, so he wasn’t about to complain.   
What he was nervous about was making a fool of himself. He was about to go on a date with a confident and sexy man, so, naturally, Balthazar was going to mess it up. He didn’t know how yet, but he would. He was sure of it.  
Still, Balthazar called a cab and rode to Henry’s apartment through the streets of New York City. He wasn’t quite sure what Henry had in mind, only that he was asked to dress casually and comfortably. He stared nervously out the window for the entire drive, and was certain that the driver had made a mistake when they stopped. But, the cabbie assured him, there was no mistake. This was the address.  
It was an old four story building looking a few bad days away from being condemned. Vines curled up the sides of the building, reaching the very top floor, but the garden surrounding it was entirely dead. The stairs were carved out of rough stone with cast iron railing that had seen better days. But the place was cheery, painted a bright blue color with a pop of yellow as the door.  
Balthazar looked at his phone, glancing over the address he’d been given. The fourth floor apartment was the one Henry lived in. So, Balthazar walked up the stairs and pushed the door open. Directly in front of him was a winding staircase to the top, and to his left was the door to this floor’s apartment. Balthazar chose the staircase and stopped immediately, heart seizing.   
If he’d been afraid with a gun pointed at him, he was doubly so on these stairs. He gripped the railing and sent a quick prayer off to a God he barely believed in. Anything could help.   
He wasn’t about to let terrifying stairs stop him from going on a date with the man he’d been gushing over for three months. He plucked up his courage and continued up the precarious staircase.  
After what seemed like an eternity (but was only eight minutes), Balthazar arrived at the fourth floor. Or, what he assumed to be the fourth floor.   
At the end of the staircase, there was a hatch that presumably opened inward. Balthazar had to knock on the hatch, he hoped. Otherwise, he would be making a fool of himself.  
Much to his relief, the hatch opened and showed Henry’s smiling face. His glasses were on once more, and the slight curls Balthazar had come to know were back, again. It was endearing to see Henry like this, again. Balthazar hadn’t realized how much he missed it.  
“Balthazar! Good to see you! Come on up.” Henry said, voice at its normal pitch. He ducked out of the way, allowing Balthazar to climb the rest of the stairs and into the apartment.  
The apartment, itself, was warm. That was the proper word for it.  
It wasn’t the biggest. Directly to Balthazar’s left was a kitchen, surrounding him was a large room that encompassed living and dining room, and he could see two doors that presumably led into the bedroom and the bathroom.  
The furniture was plush and cozy looking, impeccably matched with the neutral wall colors. The one messy spot was the bookshelves taking up an entire wall. Papers stuck out, books were stacked on top of each other and at bizarre angles, and it looked very much like Balthazar thought Henry’s bookshelf would look like.   
In the kitchen, Balthazar noticed, Henry was cooking food. Balthazar couldn’t identify what, but it smelled divine.   
“I was worried you wouldn’t come.” Henry confessed.   
“You were?” Balthazar asked, surprised. Henry gave him a strange look.  
“Of course I was. It’s not too often that someone I know wants to keep knowing me after I show them…Don Winchester.” Henry said, walking into the kitchen to stir something in a bubbling pot. “And I don’t blame them, really. When they learn…when they learn what I do for a living, of course they don’t want to be around me. Everything I do in my professional life is illegal. I’m honestly astounded you want to be around me.”  
“Henry, darling, you saved my life. Surely, you can’t be all bad if you’d do such a thing for a man who has nothing to offer you.” Balthazar pointed out. Henry blinked, pointedly.  
“Nothing to offer?”  
“I’m not particularly wealthy, I have no connections, and I’m not skilled enough to be a member of your organization.” Balthazar elaborated.  
“To be fair, my reason for saving you was entirely selfish.” Henry set down the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir and looked him in the eye. “I care for you, Balthazar. Deeply.” Balthazar felt himself turn a shade of red he previously thought unattainable. “Which is why I wanted to see you. From now on, you can ask me any question, anything at all, and I’ll answer. Complete honesty. If I’m going to scare you off, I’d rather do it before I can’t live without you.” Henry concluded. Balthazar licked his lips, a nervous habit he’d had since childhood.  
“Where’s your cat?” Was all Balthazar found himself capable of asking. He was overwhelmed with things he wanted to ask so, naturally, the stupidest question he could ask came out first.  
Henry clearly wasn’t expecting it, because he opened and closed his mouth for a moment.  
“I, um…I don’t know. He’s around, somewhere. He’ll come out when he wants attention.” Henry answered, still a bit taken aback. He busied himself with the food, which Balthazar assumed was for them. And while he did that, Balthazar considered his next question.  
“How long have you been doing this?” He finally came up with.  
“About seven years, give or take. Enough time to build up my reputation, and build a substantial empire.” Henry answered, not looking Balthazar in the eyes.  
“How big is this empire?”  
“I have a hold almost everywhere in Manhattan, I’m overtaking Staten Island and Long Island, and I’m setting my sights on Brooklyn.” His voice lowered as he talked about business enterprises. “The boss over there is being uncooperative. Chicago is ripe for the taking, but he’s staying put in Brooklyn. I guess that’s our way, stubborn over territory.”   
“You barter territory?”  
“More than the Founding Fathers, when both parties are cooperative. Sometimes it’s information, sometimes it’s weapons, it just depends on the deal arranged.” Henry responded, losing all the warmth in his tone. It was an entire shift in personality. And Balthazar didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. But he had to bring it back, at least a little.  
“Henry, I’ve never asked the most mundane question. How old are you?” Balthazar asked. Again, Henry seemed surprised. All the coldness of Don Winchester drained away.  
“I’m 34.” Henry replied.

 

The evening flowed smoothly from then, on. They’d eaten a delicious dinner, and Balthazar gave Henry a constant barrage of questions, and he answered all of them, without fail. He even told the story of the scar on his cheek. (This wasn’t even from the mafia. It was his brother’s overexcited dog and a horrible trip that got the wound infected.)   
But there was one question Balthazar had been putting off. The tattoo. It bothered him more than anything else.  
“Henry,” Balthazar started, grabbing the man’s attention. They were still sat across the dining table, as they hadn’t moved since they cleared the dishes. “What does that tattoo mean?”  
Henry froze, for only a moment. Whether subconsciously or not, he scratched the tattoo and looked away.  
“I knew you would ask that. But I was’t ready for it. This tattoo…it’s a reminder, I suppose.” Henry sighed. “When I was first starting out, I made a big mistake. Because of my reckless decisions, I killed six innocent people. Because of that, I formed my code. No innocents. I will only kill when my life or the life of something I care about is threatened. I’ve ordered my men to act the same. Those people I killed…I’ll never forget their faces. So, it won’t happen again.” Henry finished, getting quieter and quieter throughout his explanation.   
The man in front of him had a lot of baggage, Balthazar realized. But he didn’t mind. Henry was still a good person, clearly, and still tried to do some good. Balthazar was certain that other mob bosses didn’t have this code.  
Balthazar reached across the table and grabbed Henry’s hand. Henry looked up at him, surprised.   
“After all that…you’re still here?”  
“I am. If you still want me to be.” Balthazar answered.  
He’d been doing many things that surprised himself, lately. All because of the man whose hand he held. But Balthazar wasn’t upset about it, not in the slightest.  
“I want you to stay.” Henry said. He stood up, walked around the table, still holding Balthazar’s hand, and kissed him.  
All rational thought left Balthazar’s head. Henry tasted too good for his head to work.


End file.
